Page 101 of Stolen Harmony

“You'll break him,” he said, softer now. Maybe he meant Elias. Maybe he meant Rowan. Maybe he meant himself. “And for what? A seat on a council that changes nothing? A plaque with your name?”

“For control,” I said simply. “For the quiet that happens when things finally stop arguing with me.”

We sat with the honesty of that.

He rose first, slow, as if the air had grown viscous. He looked older than he had when he walked in. “I don't agree with this,” he said. “Any of it.”

“Your hands,” I said gently, “are tied.”

His eyes shut, his whole frame sagging for just a moment. “Iknow what I signed,” he said, the words dragged out like they hurt. “But I didn't sell you my conscience.”

I tilted my head, studying him with detached curiosity, then smiled. “No,” I said smoothly. “But you did sell me everything else..” A pause, razor-sharp. “Tell me, father—how did Rowan taste?”

His eyes flew open. His throat worked like he'd swallowed glass. “You—” His gaze cut to the laptop, then back to me. Horror widened his face as realization dropped. “You've got cameras in his place. Christ. You've got them in mine, too, don't you?”

My silence was the only answer he needed. The flicker of amusement in my eyes was confirmation enough.

“You're a monster,” he whispered, voice shaking, not with fear but with disgust.

I ignored the insult, reaching into the top drawer of my desk. I withdrew a slim envelope and set it deliberately on the table between us. Cash, thick enough to speak louder than words. “For your information,” I said softly. “As promised.”

He didn't touch it. His fists clenched on his knees. “What's your end game, Victor? What the hell is all this for? You spying on Elias, dragging Rowan into your mess, turning Harbor's End into your personal chessboard—why?”

I leaned back, my smile precise, patient, the way a man smiles when he's already won. “Because Elias has something I need. That ridiculous little recording studio is the last obstacle to the development project. The land should already be mine.”

He stared at me, shock lining his face. “All of this—Rowan, the games, destroying your brother—just to get that building? To get a piece of land?”

My eyes glittered, pale and cold. “Nothing is too small or too big when it has my name on it. That's what you neverunderstood. Elias clings to ghosts. Rowan clings to his emotions. But I build. And when I build, my name stays.”

He shook his head, disgust plain. “You'll tear down everyone around you for a plaque.”

I smoothed my tie, already done with the conversation. “Not a plaque. A legacy.”

He let out a ragged breath, the kind that carried years of disappointment. “You think that word makes you different from every other vulture that's bled this town dry? It doesn't. You're no better than the ones who sold us out when you were a boy.”

My smile didn't shift, but something colder flickered in my eyes. “Better,” I corrected softly. “Because I win.”

“You call this winning?” His voice cracked, old fury leaking through. “Spying on your own blood? Using a grieving kid who doesn't know he's a pawn? Elias may be cautious, broken even, but at least he has a heart. At least he hasn't traded his humanity for a headline.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, the picture of calm authority. “He traded his chance the day he chose weakness. And Rowan—Rowan traded the moment he let me in. Don't confuse willingness with innocence, Father.”

His hands curled into fists on the arms of the chair. “You disgust me.”

I tilted my head. “And yet, here you are. Sitting in a house you once owned, paid for with my money, protected by my silence. Don't play the martyr now—it doesn't suit you.”

He stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the polished floor. For a moment, he looked every bit his age, weighed down by the shadow of a son he barely recognized. “One day, Victor, you'll realize that having everything isn't the same as being remembered. And when that day comes, noamount of footage, no amount of land, will fill that hollow you've carved out of yourself.”

I rose too, slower, deliberate. I didn't try to stop him. “When that day comes,” I said smoothly, “I'll already own what matters.”

He shook his head and walked to the door. His hand lingered on the knob, but he didn't turn back. “You've already lost,” he said, quiet but certain. “You just don't know it yet.”

The door clicked shut behind him. Silence filled the office, thick and absolute.

Chapter 21

Permission

Elias